


In My Eyes He Matches the Gods

by SorchaR



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Mild Voyeurism, fantasy sibling incest, incestuous thoughts, she has a 21st century brain in an 18th century head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:40:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaR/pseuds/SorchaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gretel's never been good at normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Eyes He Matches the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note: Having now seen the movie, I've made one tiny edit to bring the story into compliance with movie canon. It doesn't really affect the story as such if you've already read it.

When Gretel is seventeen, she falls in love with her brother.

Here's how it happens:

They're in pursuit of a coven, and they've stopped in a crowded tavern to pick up whatever information they can. Gretel is in the corner with her back against the wall, weapon at hand, while Hansel talks to the barmaid. He's flirting shamelessly, as he does, and where Gretel used to roll her eyes and laugh at how easily women fall for his charm, right now she doesn't feel like laughing at all.

Maybe it's because the girl is pressed so close to him that a thread wouldn't fit between them. The tavern isn't _that_ crowded. Or maybe it's because Hansel's got his hand on her hip and shows no sign of wanting to have his personal space returned to him.

Maybe it's just that Gretel's bored out of her skull and getting increasingly tired of having to fend off the advances of drunken townsmen. After convincing one of them that he'd rather keep his balls than piss her off, she looks back toward the bar only to find that Hansel and the barmaid are nowhere in sight.

At first, she assumes that Hansel has taken the girl outside to talk, since it's too loud in here to carry on a conversation at anything quieter than a shout. After about fifteen minutes, though, she's starting to get pissed. Not worried - Hansel can more than take care of himself - but pissed because he left and didn't even bother to tell her he was going.

And maybe just a little bit pissed about what he and the barmaid are probably doing, which is weird because since when has she cared about that?

Just as she's about to go looking for him, he slides into the chair by hers, looking rumpled and satisfied. "I know where we need to go next," he tells her, picking up the ale he left earlier and taking a long swig.

"I know where _you_ need to go next," she retorts. "You need a bath. You reek of p...perfume." She'd been going to say "pussy," but then she really would sound like a jealous bitch.

Which she absolutely is not.

Hansel glances over, eyebrows lifted. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Gretel downs the rest of her ale and stands. "Let's go."

*****

They find the coven, of course, and destroy it. In addition to cash payment, they're given lodgings by the lord who hired them. He puts them in his guest cottage and tells them to stay as long as they like. The cottage has two bedrooms, so they just move one bed into the other room. They always share a room; it's safer, and though Gretel won't admit it, she likes having Hansel close by when she has nightmares.

A coin toss nets Hansel the first bath, and by the time Gretel has finished hers, he's already asleep. She settles in by the fire to dry her hair and as she does, she glances over at him and can't help smiling a little. He looks so young and vulnerable in sleep, long lashes fanned against his cheeks, and she finds it hard not to go tuck him in.

Once her hair is dry, she gets up and sits on the edge of Hansel's bed, heart pounding as she gazes at him. He's beautiful, her Hansel, and her fingers ache to trail over his skin. She knows every scar on his body, knows how he got each one, took care of most of the wounds herself. She wants to relearn them now with her lips and tongue.

Hansel shifts restlessly, legs sprawling, and the sheet slips down past his hips. Lower lip caught in her teeth, she gazes at his cock, soft against his muscled thigh, and the heavy pouch of his balls below. Oh, she does so want to touch him, and she finds herself reaching out without meaning to.

 _This is your **brother**_ , she tells herself fiercely, yanking her hand back. _You're not supposed to think about him like that._ Of course, technically, she's not supposed to think about any man like that - she's supposed to remain a blushing, ignorant virgin until she marries.

Like that's going to happen. She can't imagine any man would be willing to let his wife go running off with her brother for weeks or even months at a time to hunt witches. And she certainly isn't interested in a man who'd want her to cook and clean and have babies. It's yet another way she's not like normal girls. Normal girls want husbands and babies and homes of their own. They don't kill witches and hang out in taverns, and they definitely don't want to fuck their brothers. 

Well, being normal has always sounded really boring.

Hansel moves again, and so does she, thighs clenching around the growing wetness between them. She _aches_ with need in a way she never has before, her fists clenching and her heart pounding. If she could be sure he'd want it too, she'd climb right onto his bed. She'd kiss him and taste him, and then she'd kneel up astride him and take him all the way inside her. It would hurt and she would bleed, but pain and blood are part of life, part of their bond.

Gretel allows herself to touch his cheek, just a safe, innocent caress that any sister might give her brother, but then she forces herself to stand. She's following her thoughts down a dangerous path, and Gretel knows a dangerous path when she sees one. 

She moves to her bed, which has never seemed quite so cold or lonely before, and slips under the covers. Teeth caught between her lower lip, she reaches down and tugs the hem of her nightgown up, fingers creeping between her thighs. She's fast and quiet, and afterward, for the first time since she learned to please herself, she feels a little guilty.

Of course, fantasizing about your brother while you masturbate will do that to you.

**Author's Note:**

> There may be another to follow. This one wanted to end with poor Gretel all unfulfilled, but I want a happy ending, which means porn. And I gets what I wants. Well, okay, not always.
> 
> Title from a poem by Sappho, because I'm pretentious like that.


End file.
